


Replacements

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [19]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Amputation, Angst, Body Modification, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Magic, Robotics, Science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Engineer reveals to Pyro his latest technological advance, his beloved firebug isn’t nearly as thrilled as he is.  It drags up a lot of Pyro’s guilt and worry, both about their relationship and Engineer’s scientific pursuits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Replacements

"It looks real," Pyro mumbled, leaning down and peering through wide, dark lenses.

Engineer flexed his hand, smirking. "It had better. Been workin' on this little baby on and off for a few years now, prototypin' even longer. All that work finally come to fruition."

It was a marvel of science, of skill, the thing that sat anchored to the Texan's wrist where once had been a stump affixed with a metal cap and his rather terrifying, claw-like mechanical hand, The Gunslinger. Now in its place, what appeared for all intents and purposes to be a natural, flesh-and-blood human hand was anchored near-seamlessly to the mechanic's flesh, save for the barely visible line where synthetic and organic flesh met.

It was warm to the touch and soft. It had the smooth texture and slight friction of a true skin, the rough callous and grooves of a well-used palm. Soft, light, synthetic hairs dotted the appendage's back, meshing with the hair that ran down his arm, and matching the patterns along the back of his living hand, slightly singed and rubbed away from years of hard work and continuous welding and machining and using flesh and bone as impromptu tools. Beneath the so-real flesh, lines of colour that mimicked blood vessels ran, adding to the illusion and prompting Pyro to wonder if they were simply decoration, or cleverly-concealed bits of wiring.

It was a perfect replica in every way, indistinguishable from the hand Engineer had removed of his own volition, in the name of scientific progress, in preparation for this, in beta-testing his technology with the more rugged and pragmatic Gunslinger.

"But why?" Pyro asked, turning to his lover with confusion. "Why remove your hand at all?"

"Let me show you, Darlin'," Engineer chuckled, picking up a piece of scrap metal. He held the oblong chunk of solder flash in his hand, and slowly, curled his fingers around it. With a creak, it began to bend, folding in on itself around his fingers, like he were closing a fist around a wad of clay. When his fingertips met his palm, he uncurled his hand, holding the oblong, finger-dented piece of flash up for Pyro to see.

"Wow," the firebug marveled, nodding. "That's some serious grip strength. But is strength all?'

"There's also durability. This synthetic skin is tougher than human flesh, less susceptible to rips and cuts, as well as puncture and heat-resistant. You can set this baby on fire and it wouldn't do a thing to it."

"Because it can't feel."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? But that's what else is amazin'! And part of what's taken me so long to get this baby workin' right. Had to commission a few ounces of Australium from the lady up top to help with the wirin', but the synthetic skin is equipped with a sensory array, complete with artificial nerves capable of the same degree of perception as organic flesh. It's also got some extras built in, like a sensory kill switch in case of damage. It can shut off the nerves surroundin' a damaged area, or drop the entire network should something catastrophic happen, so as not to send the wearer, yours truly in this case, into shock. Practical upshot is that, for example, if you _were_ to set my hand on fire, the network, sensin' damage, would hit the kill switch, shuttin' down the sensory array and sparin' me the blindin' pain of burning, while not actually damagin' the hand."

"So it feels just like normal?" Pyro asked, letting his gloved fingers dance along the palm of Engineer's unreal hand.

"Perfectly," Engineer assured him, tugging his hand away as the touches began to tickle.

"Strange," the firebug hummed, looking over the hand slowly.

"You alright, Darlin'?"

"Yeah, I just...hm," Pyro hemmed, cocking his masked head to the side.

It was cold. In spite of its warmth and natural appearance, Pyro saw cold. He saw metal. It shone and shimmered in the buzzy fluorescent light of Engineer's shop, cold steel and tangled webs of whisper-thin Australium streaking its surface like a lightning trail of broken capillaries. He saw machinery, the smooth metallic workings of a perfect likeness of humanity cast in cold, calculated technology. Just as the magic in the air and his very veins pulsed and thrummed with life and vigor, Engineer's false hand hummed quietly, not alive and vibrant, but possessed of the concentrated glamour of the genius' creative mind forging forward were none have yet dared.

It was alien, unnatural, but Pyro wondered what really counted as natural to begin with. Certainly if he were to call flesh and blood a prerequisite he would fail by his own standards. But he worried all the same, shaking his head to clear away the phantom music that had slipped into his senses. He breathed deep, sinking back into one layer, back to the material world, where his Engineer dwelt.

Engineer had removed his hand, his living, organic, perfectly functional and undamaged hand, with a saw, some rags, quite a bit of alcohol, and a blow torch. He'd never consulted anyone on procedure, or for advice, simply created The Gunslinger, wanted to test it, and in his mind, it had been far more ethical to use himself as a test subject rather than someone who might not understand its workings and specifications. He could troubleshoot it himself, observe what data he needed himself, and train no one in its use. It was a pragmatic yet dramatic solution to a very minor inconvenience. He always claimed to solve practical problems, but he'd never claimed to possess a lick of common sense.

Otherwise, he probably wouldn't be employed by Builder's League United, and certainly he wouldn't be in a relationship with a man whose face he'd never seen, whose body he'd never touched, who encouraged him to seek physical satisfaction outside of their relationship rather than explain why the suit stayed on.

Pyro had felt he'd done Engineer a disservice, agreeing to date him. He'd made it known from the start that there were certain... issues, about his body, that made him uncomfortable with the idea of removing his mask or suit. He'd never explained why. How could he? How could he be sure the Texan would find him attractive when he saw his true face? And with his fears confirmed upon Scout's transformation, the firebug feared leaving his suit all the more. So he didn't. He wouldn't. He couldn't. No matter how much he longed for the Texan's touch.

He'd assured Engineer that he found him attractive, longed for him, even, but wouldn't be able to act on it. For reasons best left known only to Pyro. Engineer, without ever having laid his lips upon his lover's, had agreed without hesitation, without question. He never wheedled, never whined, never once needed to know anything more than Pyro was uncomfortable, and that was all he needed. He had his own needs, but to him it didn't matter. Not when he could hold Pyro in his arms, could call him his Darlin', could be around him at all times and hold his hand and press his lips to the crown of the firebug's mask and tell him he loved him.

And Pyro loved him in return. More than anything, he loved Engineer. In centuries and millennia, never once had so endearing and intelligent, handsome and amicable, creative and clever man crossed Pyro's path. Never once had he felt the way he did for the stout Texan. And so he worried. He frowned behind filters and hemmed and hawed, eyes drifting to the assembled blueprints tacked up on the mechanic's cork board on the wall, illustrating more detailed nerve arrays, metal femurs and fibulas and tibias, as well as diagrams of organic joints and the synthetic simulacrums he intended to construct. Engineer had more in store, ready to work on. His technology perfected, he could replace whatever he'd wanted. He could make himself stronger, faster, hardier. Pyro noticed a few notes about hidden weapon and tool holsters contained within the thigh. He was going to remake himself, sacrificing his own body to do it, destroying what was healthy and whole, what was beloved yet woefully untouched by Pyro's bare hands, his bare lips, his bare body.

"Engie, are you sure this is all a good idea?"

"Why not, Darlin'? It'll make me better at everythin' I do, without sacrificin' any of the normal functioning of flesh and blood body parts! It doesn't age, doesn't weaken, and works better 'n nature provides! Plus, once I do enough field testin' on my own, I can file the patents. I've worked with a few folks in a few governments who would eat this up; not to mention the medical community."

Pyro stared at Engineer through blank lenses. Sentimental yet pragmatic, as always. It bothered Pyro. It hurt him, to see such disregard for the perfect form he adored, but he couldn't muster the words to put his feelings into anything cohesive. He couldn't do much but to shake softly inside his suit. Time and space stretched out in all directions from him, languages rising and crumbling within his mind. In all the tongues of all of the people that had risen from the dust, all of the syllables to ever pass lips, he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word to argue.

"I just... I don't know," Pyro mumbled, slouching with a noisy shift of his suit. "You're already perfect."

"Aww shucks, Darlin'. You don't need to worry, I know what I'm doin'."

"That's what worries me," the firebug muttered, his words obscured by his mask.

"Pyro, I'm makin' myself better! I won't have to worry about muscle strains, and once I get the legs worked on I'll be able to run forever if I want."

"But your legs are wonderful. They're short and fuzzy and strong. You get turned on and blush when I touch the backs of your knees. You love having your feet rubbed."

"And they'll look and feel just the same when I'm done! You'll still be able to get me goin' with your hands and my knees. You'll still turn me into jelly when you rub my feet. They'll still be short and fuzzy and strong, Darlin'. Just not made of meat, but polymers and metal. They'll be just the same, but better!"

Pyro deflated. There was no arguing, no convincing his love to deviate from his self-destructive, self-constructive path. He needed air, maybe something sweet in his belly. Maybe there were still some pastries left in the fridge. "Look, I-I'm going to head down to Mess. Do you want anything?"

"Pyro..."

"Peanut butter and jelly okay?" the firebug asked, not expecting nor seeking an actual response as he trundled out the door, looking past the material world and pushing his sight to transcend layers. He let his vision grow pastel, the colours flow, and the sparkles and bubbles and shimmering lights fill his eyes once more with fae flights of fancy to distract him from his pain and confusion. He couldn't deal with this, too upset, too bereft, too worried and powerless to do anything but escape.

Engineer watched him leave, then looked to his mechanical hand. His lip quivering, he slammed it down on his metal drafting table, leaving a deep dent.

"Dammit."


End file.
